


I'm Lying on the Cold Hard Ground (but you were never trouble)

by C_Ell



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Adding other tags as I go, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Grounder Clarke, Blood and Violence, Clexa, Eventual Romance, F/F, Grounder AU, Healer Clarke, Polis, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-25 01:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6174634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_Ell/pseuds/C_Ell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War is brewing. The coalition is weakening under the strain of the Ice Queen as she threatens the authority of the Commander. Clarke, blissfully unaware of the politics travels to Polis to improve on her studies in medicine, leaving behind her Mother and Father in TonDC. She hasn't spoken to her childhood friend Lexa since she was called upon to lead, but Lexa needs an able healer by her side now more than ever.</p><p>Or</p><p>The Grounder AU where Clarke was raised in TonDC by adoptive parents</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

She was four years old when the girl fell from the sky. She stood in the town center of TonDC watching the older children training. They were the children that showed promise to become warriors, but had yet to become a second. They still needed to learn, and so a retired warrior taught them the ways. Lexa liked to watch them, and even tried to mimic their movements. She watched as Rona, a fearsome warrior who had survived for so long, showed her students how to hold their swords and corrected them quickly when they made a mistake. Lexa tried to imitate her, she held out a stick that she had found, pretending it was a sword. She imagined the weight of a real sword as she swung it in the heat of battle, dodging every imaginary swipe by her enemies, and fighting off five warriors. Rona calling out a mistake in one of the students tore her from her fantasy, but she watched intently as the student was corrected, and made sure that she didn’t make that mistake. She may not have been old enough to be included in training, but she could still try to learn. She refocused on her stick, swinging it in wide arcs, immersing herself once again in her fantasy.

She failed to notice when the other children disbanded and went about their daily chores, and she remained in the square, chopping at imaginary foes with her mighty sword. She failed to notice a depression in the dirt, and when she tried to step forward, her foot fell. She collapsed forward, but felt strong hands catch her. She looked up to see Rona towering over her. Lexa blushed at her mistake, embarrassed to be caught playing like she was, and even more embarrassed that she tripped. Rona set her down once Lexa’s feet were steady again, and picked up the stick she was play-fighting with.

“This sword is too dull, little warrior” she said, running her hand along the edges, “if you want to do more than irritate your foes, you will need to learn to fight with a real blade.”

“It’s just a stick, elder Rona.” but Lexa couldn’t help the smile that grew on her face.

“Nonsense little one, in a warrior’s hand, everything is a weapon,” The older woman looked down at Lexa, her expression was stern, but her eyes were smiling. “You were certainly treating it like a sword, were you not?”

“I guess, I was just playing,” she felt ashamed for having bothered Rona, and started to say as much before she was interrupted.

“Now, your name is Lexa right?” Lexa nodded slightly, and Rona continued “How would you like to train with the rest of the children, Lexa?”

Lexa’s eyes lit up, she had been waiting with baited breath for the day when she was old enough to start her training. She knew that she would have to wait at least another year until she would begin training under usual circumstances. She looked up in awe at the powerful warrior who now offered her a chance to start early.

“Really?” she asked, almost hopping from one foot to the other.

“Really.” The older woman said “besides, you watch the others train every day, it wouldn’t be that big of a difference.”

But it was a big difference. She could hardly contain her excitement at the idea of being actually trained by a warrior, not just watching the training of others. She opened her mouth to reply, but just then, a streak of light fell out of the sky. Her mouth fell open in shock and awe. An orange ball of light hurtled towards her village from the darkening sky, she trembled realizing that it might hit them.

“Elder Rona!” she yelled out pointing. “It’s going to hit us!”

The older woman turned and stood up from where she had been kneeling, standing protectively in front of the child. Other people had begun to flock from their houses, staring at the strange sight that had visited them. They turned towards the Leader of the village, Korin for answers. Lexa turned around and saw that Korin had come out of his house holding his sword. He too stared into the sky, transfixed by the sight. When he had no answers, they turned towards the village elders. Lexa saw her parents and ran out from behind Rona. “What is it?” she asked, and heard similar questions echoed from the other villagers who had gathered in the town center.

An elder stepped forward with an answer, his name was Nayer “It is a meteor, fallen to this earth from above. Many never reach the ground, but this one is different.”

As he spoke, the meteor (the word sounded strange and alien to Lexa, and she worked it around her mind for a moment) flew overhead, the light bathing the town in orange as it passed. Then it crashed into the trees. She saw a cloud of smoke rise from the forest. Before her parents could stop her, she started running towards it, the desire to know what this meteor could be outweighing any possible danger. She heard as other members of the village followed her, more wary of the dangers that dusk could bring in the forest. When they arrived at the source of smoke, which had significantly died down at this point, she saw a large trench in the earth. The meteor had crashed through the trees and when it hit the ground, had still traveled before it stopped. She could see small black streaks in the earth, and small fires that dwindled out in the trench. She ran forward, still trying to find the meteor itself.

When she saw it, she stopped dead in her tracks. A long metal tube lay in the ground, dented, with bits of metal thrown from the crash. There was a cone attached to the end of the tube, but it had been crushed when it hit the ground. Others from the village had caught up to Lexa, and Nayer, who had spoken before stepped forward once again.

“That is no meteor, or at least, it is unlike any that I have seen before.” He looked confused to Lexa, and she saw the rest of the village hold back from approaching.

“What is it then?” she asked.

“I do not know” Nayer said.

Lexa walked forward, wanting to see what it was. If Nayer didn’t know, then it was something completely new, and she wanted to learn about this all new thing. When she reached the metal tube, she started pushing on it, trying to figure out just what it actually was. There were strange symbols that lined the tube, but she had no idea what they meant. She noticed what looked like a handle sticking out from one of the metal pieces and she grabbed it, trying to pull it open, but she wasn’t strong enough. Then a pair of larger hands grabbed onto it, pulling it open. Before looking to see who had opened it, Lexa pulled herself up, trying to peek inside of the metal tube.

What she saw inside was even more amazing than the tube itself. There was a girl laying inside with golden hair that fell around her face. She seemed to be sleeping to Lexa, until she noticed that her forehead was bleeding.

“There’s a girl!” she called out, “She’s hurt!”

Lexa looked back to the girl lying inside the metal worried. She reached down, trying to pull her out, but couldn’t reach. The villager that had helped her before reached down and picked up the girl. Lexa looked at who it was now, seeing that it was Jarrod, the healer of the village. He carried the girl carefully, and led the way back towards the village. Some of the other villagers began scouring the wreckage for anything they could salvage, but Lexa followed Jarrod. She tried to get another glimpse of the sky girl’s face. All she could see from her height was a mass of blonde hair hanging down from Jarrod’s arms. As they returned to her village, she tried to follow Jarred towards his home, but pouted hearing her parents call for her. She turned, wishing she could satisfy her curiosity, and returned to her parents. Before they entered their home, Rona stopped them.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Lexa.” She said crouching down. “Will you take on the training to become a warrior?”

Lexa nodded furiously, “Yes! Please I would love to!” she said, a gapped toothed grin widening. Her curiosity for the girl who fell from the sky forgotten in her excitement for the following day. As she lay in bed that night, she could hardly get to sleep, excitement for her first training session coursed through her veins, and even when that subsided, her mind filled with questions about the sky girl.

*    *    *

It was nearly a year before the sky girl spoke. By that time, her name had become Clarke, and the village had stopped talking about her arrival. When she recovered from her injuries, even before there was talk of what to do with her, Jarrod and his wife Grifon, who was the best hunter in the village, made the decision to take her in. They treated her as a daughter, and in time, the rest of the village saw it that way as well. Although she never spoke, Clarke became a part of the village. She and Lexa rarely crossed paths, Clarke staying in Jarrod and Grifon’s home for most of her time, and Lexa spending her days training. Lexa’s curiosity had worn off once she began her training, little else occupied her mind. Even when she had time to herself, she didn’t enjoy playing with the other children that much, instead she preferred to practice.

Lexa’s training had progressed well. She had been disappointed to learn that her training began with hand-to-hand combat before anything else, but in time she learned that it was far more practical, being able to fight without weapons meant that she was always prepared. She longed for the day that she would begin learning how to use a sword or bow. The glamour of weapons and the ideal of the warrior still appealed to the young girl, but under Rona’s tutelage (occasionally assisted by other warriors in the village) Lexa was learning that the world was not quite so glamourous. She was slowly learning that war was not quite so much an art as a brutal struggle to survive.

Still, the day when she finally was taught how to use a knife, she was overjoyed. The training began as usual, she and the others began the day by going for a run. According to Rona, it would increase their speed and stamina, along with waking them up and preparing them for a day of training. According to Lexa, it was exhausting, a waste of time, and always caused her sides to cramp. She never voiced those thoughts aloud, of course, Rona would have her tongue if she ever thought to talk back in such a way. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Lexa was beginning to enjoy the morning runs. They gave her time to collect her thoughts for the day, and she did begin to realize that Rona was right, she was growing stronger, faster, and she was out of breath far less than she used to be. If only she could sort out the cramp problems.

When all of the trainees returned to the town center, Rona was waiting for them, as usual. The day began by Rona running drills in hand-to-hand combat. After she drilled them in the correct way to move, they paired off and began sparring. Lexa ended up facing up against a boy about a year and a half older. She tried blocking his attacks, but each time he hit her block, he broke through, it wasn’t very helpful. She realized that there was no way that she, as a much smaller opponent could continue taking the brunt of his hits like that. She remembered a lesson early on with Rona. She couldn’t always block her opponent’s strikes, especially when they were stronger than she was. While the stronger and bigger students could choose to root themselves, they could do so only because few were stronger than them, and few could actually knock them down. Lexa tried to start dodging her opponent’s attacks.

For a moment, it seemed her change in tactic had worked. The older boy staggered when his punch connected with nothing but air. She used the opportunity to get in her first hit on his side. Unfazed, he spun towards her and moved in for another attack. This time he was more wary, not quite the same as the charging, reckless attacks from before. When she saw his fist moving towards her, she tried to dodge, but his foot swept out under hers and she collapsed backwards. As his fist descended towards her she heard Rona call out “Stop.” The fist slowed down and stopped before it hit her, turning into a hand reaching down to help her up. She frowned, angry that she couldn’t win. She rolled over, out from under the hand reaching down, punching the packed earth in frustration as she lifted herself onto her knees. She stood up on her own and turned towards Rona as the boy withdrew his hand slowly. She balled her hands into fists.

“I could have kept fighting!” she said to Rona, “why did you stop him?”

“Because it’s time to continue with the day’s training,” The older woman looked over her, “Come on, Lexa, Lincoln, join the other students.”

Lexa looked at her in confusion. Usually Rona her and the other young students to spar throughout the day as she took the more advanced students on to train with weapons. Lexa’s eyes widened with realization.

“You mean, I get to train with knives?” she asked, bruises immediately forgotten.

“Yes, I have decided to allow you to advance in your training.”

Lexa spent the next few hours of the day learning the basics of knife work. Rona gave her a knife which she received with reverent care. She swore silently to herself to maintain its condition and make Rona proud. After some time of learning how to use her knife, she was paired up again against an opponent. It was the same boy from before. She frowned at him, anger from being beaten previously rushing back. They squared off, both moving through the exercises that Rona had told them to practice. It wasn’t a sparring match, they were simply going through specific attack and block motions that Rona had shown them. Lexa tried to put more strength and speed into her attacks and blocks than they were told to, and she could feel that the other boy, Lincoln, reacted by doing the same. Their ferocity made the exercise feel real to Lexa, and by the end of the day, he frustration with Lincoln had decreased, if only slightly. He challenged her, and some part of her knew that she should relish the chance to rise to that challenge.

By the end of the day of training, she was exhausted, but satisfied and excited to continue her training with knives the next day. She rested in the town center, sitting against the wall of one of the buildings and held her knife, reflecting on the day. Then she noticed the sky girl walking through the area. She watched as the girl with blonde hair walked by. She walked slowly, almost shuffling along, looking around meekly. She seemed nervous, unsure of herself. Not paying attention to what she was doing, the knife in Lexa’s hands slipped.

She cried out softly when the tip of the knife bit into her hand. A trickle of blood came spilling out of her palm. She dropped her knife in surprise and stared at the injury. The girl turned towards her in surprise, and seeing the blood rushed forwards. Lexa felt hand reaching around her wrist, and she stared up into the eyes of the blonde girl. Her eyes were blue, like the sky from which she came. Lexa was briefly held in place, before she felt a tug on her arm. The girl was pulling her, guiding her it seemed. She reached down to pick her knife back up before conceding to the pull of the other girl.

The girl led her into the home of Jarrod and Grifon. Once in the presence of the girl’s parents, she stopped.

“Em… laksen” She spoke in a halting voice, as if unsure of how to use it.

Her parents spun at the sound of the voice, staring at the girl. “Clarke?” their tone was the same combination of shock, joy, and pride. The two stared down at the girl they had grown to think of as their daughter. Lexa stood behind Clarke, tears in the corners of her eyes as she tried to hold them back at the pain in her hand. The other girl jerked her arm forward, trying to show her parents.

“Em laksen” she said again. _She hurt_. Lexa grunted at the yank on her arm, but let herself be pulled forward.

“Oh,” Jarrod said looking down at the cut on Lexa’s palm, “Oh! I see, let me help with that.”

The large man took Lexa’s hand in his. Her hands looked tiny in his. He gently led her towards a table, and pulled out a chair for her to sit. Moments later, he returned with tea and a clean cloth.

“Drink this, it will help ease the pain.” He handed the cup of tea. Taking her hand in his once more as he ran the cloth over her cut. “You were lucky, this isn’t too serious. What happened Lexa?”

“I was just holding my knife, and I got distracted,” she started hesitantly “but just for a second! I won’t do it again I swear.” She rushed to explain herself.

“Well, you will be okay. Let me just bandage this up. It should be healed in a couple of days at most, but keep it clean, you don’t want an infection.” Jarrod explained. Then he sent her back to her home, with instructions to come back in a couple of days to make sure she was healing correctly.

*    *    *

Clarke knelt in the grass, searching for the plants her father needed. She stared around at the field, trying to spot any of the qualities that told her what each plant was. Dark green leaves, her father had said, three points on each, small flowers with dark purple leaves.

“Father! Over here, I think I found it.” She called out. Her father stood from where he had been sitting, searching just as she was. His eyes brightened when he saw the plant she pointed at.

“Good, Clarke,” he rumbled, “Tell me, what does this plant do for us?”

“It’s Shadebloom. The stems and leaves can be mixed with water and ground into a potent poison. Tea made from the flowers can help to dull pain, and tea made from one of the leaves can knock a person unconscious for up to five hours, depending on their weight, age, and how well they react to various poisons.” She stated, watching her father nod carefully. She hesitantly continued,

“Well done. You are learning well.” He nodded at her, “Now, harvest the shadebloom and we can continue onward.”

Clarke pulled her hunting knife from its sheath on her thigh and used it to cut the shadebloom near the earth. If the roots remained, it would be possible for it to grow once more. She carefully placed the flower in the pouch at her hip, laying it among the others she had gathered that day. Her father had promised her that on her eighth birthday, he would take her to stock her pouch for herself. They were hunting for enough herbs that she could treat minor injuries as well as minor sicknesses. Later that day, they would fill vials with distilled teas and oils that she could carry on her belt, prepared for an array of minor sicknesses. She was looking forward to finally be able to act as a healer on her own, no longer entirely reliant on her father and his skills. He had told her that she would be allowed to treat sickness herself, if she came across it.

She also had learned the responsibilities that came along with being a healer. She was responsible for all of her patients. If they died, if she failed to save them, it was her responsibility. The weight of that was only beginning to dawn on her. She had as much hold over life and death as a warrior. Lost in her head, Clarke meandered through the undergrowth. Occasionally she bent down, using her hunting knife to gather herbs to reduce fever or nausea, or perhaps a plant which could be applied as a poultice to help close a wound. As she wandered, she was pulled out of her reverie by the sound of metal clanging against metal. Looking around her, she crouched down as her mother taught her, trying to step softly, avoiding leaves and twigs that would give away her position. She immediately regretted not taking her bow with her, not that she had reliable aim. When she had practiced last, she still only hit her target about half of the time. The clanging was not punctuated by any cries of pain, so she hoped that it was not a battle in earnest.

Stalking through the trees, Clarke emerged, stopping at the very edge of a clearing. In the clearing she saw two young women from the village. Both had swords drawn and were attacking one another. She recognized the older, blonde woman as one of the warriors. She thought her name was Anya. She had heard her parents talking about how Anya had taken on a second. Perhaps this other girl was that second. She couldn’t see the girl’s face from where she stood, but she was fighting with a ferocity to match that of her mentor, brown braids swirling around her head. She seemed to be close in age to Clarke, Anya was nearly considered an adult. The two were so engrossed in their fight that neither had noticed Clarke’s approach, although she’d rather attribute that to her improvements in moving silently. She watched from the bushes on the edge of the clearing, entranced by the two women fighting before her. As she watched, it seemed that Anya sped up. She began to swing with more determination and force. The younger girl tried to block a swing but Anya tore through her defenses. The girl began to try and dodge out of the way, but it seemed to Clarke that she was fighting a losing battle.

The girl fought on, even as she began to take hits from her mentor, for it was clear by the way Anya was calling out criticism that she was teaching the girl. Clarke lost track of time as she watched them. A few minutes must have passed before she saw Anya swing at the girl with particular ferocity. She couldn’t contain a gasp as the flat of Anya’s sword caught the girl’s side and she cried out in pain, slumping down. Anya’s eyes whipped up at the gasp as Clarke clasped her hands over her mouth. They met eyes for a moment before Anya stalked over and pulled Clarke into the open by her arm.

“And what are you doing watching us?” the woman hissed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I was just searching for herbs for my father, Jarrod, the healer.” Clarke rushed to explain “I heard the sounds of fighting and had to be sure we weren’t under attack, and then I saw it was you two training, and then she got hurt.” Clarke glanced over at the girl who was now standing up, holding her side. Their eyes met and Clarke froze for a moment. The girl had stunningly green eyes, they seemed to trap Clarke in their gaze for a moment, before shifting away. Clarke could vaguely remember her name, she thought it may be Lexa. Faintly, Clarke could hear her father calling for her.

“I see.” Anya said, “You should return to your father. These woods are dangerous to be wandering alone. Lexa, let’s go.”

Clarke watched as Anya and Lexa turned away and began gathering their gear. Clarke turned around and pushed her way back into the forest, moving steadily towards her father’s voice. That night, she lay in bed, thinking of how those eyes had held her captive.

*    *    *

Clarke pulled her arrows from the target she had drawn on the tree that morning. Each morning she practiced her archery as her mother had taught her. Her mother told her not to stay static when practicing. Each day she found a new location to practice, and she practiced from varying ranges. Today she was doing well, she had landed all of her arrows within the center two rings of the target. She planned on firing two or three more quivers of arrows before returning the help her father. Since she had turned eleven, she had begun taking on more and more responsibility helping her father, even as her mother increased her training in hunting and archery. She carried her bow and knife with her wherever she went, her father disapproved of being armed as a healer, but her mother insisted that she remain safe. It was also helpful when gathering herbs that she could take down any game she came across to lighten the load of the hunters in the village.

She heard footsteps coming up to her and she wheeled around, hand dropping towards her knife. It was just Lexa. She had seen the other girl a few times since their encounter in the forest, but neither spoke to the other much. Having finished pulling the arrows from her target, she walked back towards where she was firing from. Lexa followed her with watching eyes before speaking up.

“Are you learning to shoot? I am a warrior, you know, I could teach you.” Lexa said.

“Oh of course, please teach me.” Clarke rolled her eyes.

“May I?” Lexa reached for the bow. Clarke relented reluctantly, watching as the other girl took an arrow and fired at the tree. Clarke could hardly contain her smile seeing the arrow embed itself in the second ring.

“Very impressive, I can see why you are a warrior,” she concealed her contempt, picking up the bow once more. “Please tell me if I’m doing it right.”

She stared the other girl in the eye, and hoped to any higher power to guide her arrow well. She drew the bow without looking away from Lexa, and released. In her mind, she saw the arrow flying through the air, thudding into the dead center of the target. When they both turned to look, the arrow was there. Dead center, the arrow head dug all the way into the wood. Clarke let out a momentary sigh of relief before turning to smirk at the other girl. She seemed stunned by the arrow, not moving.

“Mockery is not the product of a strong mind.”  Lexa said after some time.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Clarke replied, then walked towards the tree to pull the arrow out. After a momentary tug she realized it wasn’t moving anywhere. She pulled out her knife and dug it into the wood around the arrow, freeing it from the tree. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to finish my practice for the day.”

She returned to the distance from which she was firing before, and began again with the fresh quiver. As she finished, she looked up and Lexa was gone. Some part of her was sad that she had left, and she didn’t quite know why. Some part of her liked that she could show off for the other girl, though she knew that her mother would disapprove of the way she had acted, she was frustrated that Lexa had thought that being a warrior made her somehow superior. Who was she to flaunt her status, she was only a second, and still young. Just like Clarke. She yanked her arrows from the tree, frustrated by the other girl. She just couldn’t get her out of her head. Her frustration only grew when she started missing the target. Her arrows each thudded into the tree above the target. She clenched her fists. Why had that girl even shown up? She was doing perfectly fine before.

She stalked back to the tree and pulled her arrows out. She slammed her fist into the tree when she noticed that one of the tips of her arrows had broken. She pushed the rest back into the quiver, and carried the broken arrow on her way home, twirling it in her hands. When she walked in the door her father looked up, noticing her frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, it was more of an acknowledgement than a question.

“Nothing.” She growled, “I broke an arrow.”

Her father came forward and took the arrow from her hands, as he pulled it from her grasp, he looked back up at her.

“What happened to your hand?” he asked. Only then did she realize that her knuckles where scraped and bloody from when she had hit the tree.

“I may have hit the tree,” she said sheepishly, worried her father would be mad. Instead, he laughed. As he laughed, she began to realize the ridiculousness of the situation.

“You broke an arrow in the tree, and decided to take revenge by punching it?” he chuckled, still smiling. She couldn’t help the grin that grew across her face. “Didn’t you think that maybe the arrow was the tree’s revenge?” Clarke started giggling, it was just a bit silly that she had tried to punch a tree. “Now, let’s get a bandage on this so we can start the day.” She followed her father and helped him to bandage her hand.

*    *    *

Clarke knew that they had won the battle, but it was also sure that they had taken many loses. She and her father were rushing around the village, going from asking around for medical supplies and trying to help the eight warriors who had been brought to them with wounds from battle. As she followed her father’s instruction in cleaning a wound before he bandaged it, the door burst open. Anya rushed in, holding a small frame in her arms. Clarke’s breath caught in her throat as she realized that it was Lexa, and she had three arrows stuck into her. The thought of a girl her age, only thirteen or fourteen years old, in the middle of battle, pierced with arrows rattled her. The other warriors were adults at least, but Lexa had been riding as Anya’s second, and Anya had recently taken control over the clan, of course she would be a target. She shook her head and went back to work. Anya laid Lexa on an unoccupied table.

“Clarke,” her father turned to her, “I want you to take care of Lexa. You can do this, but I am needed for the care of the others. She is your responsibility now.” He clasped her shoulder, and pushed her toward the table. She nodded at him hesitantly, and stepped towards Lexa. Two of the arrows had pierced clean through the girl, but the other was only partially through. She rinsed her hands in a basin of water, and reached for a vial at her waist. She put it to Lexa’s lips.

“Drink this, it will help with the pain for now,” she said.

“I don’t want it,” the other girl growled. “I can deal with pain.”

“You will want it in a moment.” Clarke said. She pinched the other girl’s nose, and when she opened her mouth to breathe Clarke poured the vial into her mouth. “Thank me when you are healed.”

She began to examine the arrow wounds. Black blood oozed from the punctures. Clarke touched the area around the entrances, hearing a hiss of pain from Lexa. All the while Anya stood behind Clarke, critical eye observing her every movement. “You’re lucky, I don’t think the arrows hit anything entirely vital.” She muttered, reaching forward to turn Lexa onto her side. She picked up a jar of dark green paste and placed it on the table, then she took out her knife, cutting away the other girl’s shirt that was in her way, leaving Lexa’s abdomen exposed. She clambered onto the table and straddled the injured girl. “Bite down on this,” she offered the girl a rolled up bandage before reaching towards one of the arrows that had gone clean through Lexa.

“Wait, what are you going to—” the other girl tried to get out around the bandage before being cut off by a grunt of pain as Clarke swiftly snapped the head of the arrow off and pulled it out, immediately pressing a cloth to the entry and exit wounds. Pulling pack the cloth, she slathered the wound in the thick paste from the jar. Then she wrapped the bandage around the girl’s torso, tying it off on her side. “One down,” she said to herself. She took a deep breath and reached for the next arrow, dug into Lexa’s shoulder, to do the same. Then it was on to the final arrow, the one still embedded in the girl’s abdomen.

“Okay, Lexa, I need you to breathe, this one is going to hurt.”

“Like the others didn’t hurt?” she snapped.

“Yes, and it will certainly make you feel like they didn’t,” she watched the girl’s eyes widen. “Bite down on the cloth. On three. One, two—” She pushed the arrow through before saying three, knowing the anxiety of waiting was enough, and the surprise would dull the pain somewhat. Lexa’s cry of agony muffled itself in the cloth, but Clarke didn’t let it phase her. As soon as the arrowhead poked out of the girl’s back, Clarke snapped it off and pulled the arrow back out. Bandaging the wound like she had for the others. She realized that her heart was beating rapidly, but she somehow felt calm. Even as she stood back up on unsteady legs to inspect the arrowheads and make sure that they weren’t poisoned, she felt powerful. This was her element, this was what she had studied with her father for a long time.

“What the hell?” Lexa was staring angrily at Clarke, spitting out the gag. She groaned realizing that the other girl had gotten over the initial shock of the pain, “you can’t say on three then surprise me like that!”

The girl’s eyes dipped as the pain medication kicked in, and Clarke knew she was hit with a wave of exhaustion that came with the herb she had given her.

“Right now, you need rest.” She said, “Lie back down on the table. I can’t let you leave until I am sure there wasn’t any poison.”

She picked up the arrowheads, bringing them towards her lips. As she held them in front of her, she stared at the blood still coating the ends, and her stomach roiled. Determined to complete her task, she flicked her tongue out to touch the arrows. A tangy copper flavour filled her mouth, but there was an overpowering bitterness to the taste. She spat it out.

“Poison.” She spat, turning away from Lexa, more to herself than anyone, “but I don’t know what kind… father might, but he had trust that I could do this myself.”

She almost ran into Anya as she started walking away from Lexa. She had forgotten that she was there, watching. Stunned, she stood looking at the older woman. Anya looked back at her, stone faced.

“Save her.” The woman turned around and walked out. Clarke realized that Anya truly cared for the girl, even if she was brusque and harsh most of the time, she did her utmost to protect Lexa. Clarke promised herself to cure Lexa, but first she needed to figure out what poison had been used. She looked at the other arrows, wondering if they were the same. She tasted each of them, noticing the same bitterness. The poison would act more quickly than usual considering Lexa had been subject to three times the dose. She ran through a mental checklist of poisons commonly used in trikru. She wasn’t sure what tribe they had been fighting, but they must have been based nearby. A few of the poisons had a common antidote, and she thought that the antidote wouldn’t cause any side effects… unless of course they had used a rare and distilled poison, then the antidote could cause the poison to act even faster. Then again, that specific poison killed within hours, and showed signs instantly… She grit her teeth as her head began to spin. She couldn’t let Lexa die just to not disappoint her father.

“Father!” she called out. He looked up from across the room, turning towards her. “What is the best antidote from to an unknown poison? Leaves from a Lysin?”

He thought for a moment before nodding, giving her a small smile. “You’ll do fine.” He reassured her. She rushed to her room, hunting through her drawers until she found the small bottle of fluid she’d kept safe. Returning to Lexa’s side, she opened the bottle.

“You’ve been poisoned. I don’t know what kind of poison they used, but most common poisons can be cured with this,” she explained. Lexa didn’t seem to be completely lucid. “Come on,” she said holding the bottle to her slightly parted lips, “swallow this, I won’t let you die.”

After she coaxed Lexa into swallowing the extract, she noticed how the other girl was sweating excessively. She grabbed a clean cloth and soaked it in cool water, washing Lexa’s forehead. She tried to help her father with the other patients, but came back to check on her every few minutes. Eventually exhaustion overcame her, as she sat in a chair by Lexa, and her eyes dipped shut.

*    *    *

Clarke had set up a small workstation in the town center. She preferred to be able to clean the kills from hunting and prepare medicine from the herbs she gathered outside, and so she had taken to doing so while the warriors trained. She and Lexa had spent more time together since she had healed. Lexa had needed to stay in her house for a few days and during that time they had become friends. She ground herbs together in a mortar and pestle, adding water to create a thick paste as she went. She added a few other leaves, some more water, and once it was fully ground, she poured it into a jar to be stored and used later. It was an effective poultice to stop bleeding, and it was always useful to have a jar around just in case, every few months, she would replace the one her father had stored. She was nearly sixteen, and her father had given her the responsibility of managing their supplies. She was also able to get hands on experience, but for the most part, she spent her days hunting and gathering medical supplies. She also treated many minor injuries and ailments that inconvenienced the village.

She looked up from what she was doing to see Lexa and Anya entering the square. They each drew their weapons and faced off. Turning back to her workstation, Clarke picked up a rabbit that she had killed early that morning. Her arrow had pierced its eye so as to preserve the meat the animal did have. She picked up her knife and began to skin it, carefully sliding her knife beneath the skin and with practiced ease removed the pelt in one piece. As she began cleaning the meat and slicing it into strips to store for later, she caught herself stealing glances at Lexa, still training with Anya. She had shed her armor and heavy clothing, leaving her in a long sleeved shirt, sweat still dripping off of her brow from the exertion. Her hair twirled around her face, a hurricane of steel assaulting her mentor.

Anya was on the defensive, parrying and dodging Lexa’s strikes, before she spotted an opening. She spun out of the way of one attack, slicing her own blade upwards towards Lexa’s lower back. Clarke’s breath caught in her throat, but just before the strike connected, Lexa shifted, allowing the swipe to pass, leaving her unharmed. They exchanged taunts in Gonasleng that Clarke could not understand, but even their tone conveyed the meaning. The swords clashed together in a struggle for dominance as Lexa pushed forward on the attack once more, then she stopped. She stepped back from attacking, swinging her sword in easy circles. Anya frowned and charged at her, but her sword was interrupted as Lexa’s arced through the air, knocking it out of its path. The dance continued between them, deadly and beautiful. It almost seemed to Clarke that they knew what the other would do before it happened, perhaps due to years of sparring.

“You’re staring.” A voice by her ear caught her off guard, and she whirled towards the source, a blush rising to her cheeks.

“Lincoln, hey” she recognized the face of the older boy next to her, “and I was not!”

“Except I’ve been standing here for that past few minutes and you have neither moved, nor have you noticed my presence.” He teased. “Face it Clarke, you were staring at Lexa.”

“Well, I was just interested in their sparring,” she mumbled, “I’m not often able to witness a match like that.”

“You’re out here every day, you watch it often enough.”

He turned away, sparring her from more teasing as he turned towards the women still fighting. Lexa stepped forward, into Anya’s space as her mentor made a cut at her, but she raised her sword, twirling around the other. Clarke noticed Anya’s wince as her sword flashed and spun out of her hand. The sword arced through towards the sky before landing point first in the earth.

“Lexa!” a voice cried, and Clarke noticed a woman running towards the girl, standing victorious from the match. Dark hair flashed as Lexa was enveloped in the young woman’s arms.

“Costia, hodnes” Lexa replied, returning the embrace. Then she spoke in a soft tone that Clarke could not hear. She liked Costia, she was one of the history keepers in the village. The elders told her stories and she composed them into oral history. She sometimes sung ballads in the evenings, and told stories to any who willingly listened. She seemed to truly care for the fate of TonDC, and wanted the inhabitants to understand their paths and build a bright future. Clarke didn’t spend much time with Costia, but she appreciated her presence, and she was good to Lexa. She felt a strange pull in her gut at that thought, but ignored it. If her friend was happy, then that made her happy. She returned her attention to the rabbit she still held, she cleaned the small creature and sliced it neatly, placing the slices on a cloth to be taken to the smoke house so that they could preserve them for rations. She took the pelt and the strips of meat and walked towards the smokehouse. She dropped the pelt off with the tanner, and left the meat hanging in the smokehouse before returning to her workstation. In the training area, Lincoln had stepped forward and was sparring with his mentor, Indra, who was a village leader. Anya led trikru, and Indra led the people of TonDC when she was away, for while Anya did spend much of her time in TonDC, she did have to leave on occasion to manage other villages and towns.

*    *    *

It was two weeks later that Lexa left. Clarke had known that her friend was a Nightblood, and also that she was a special case, being Anya’s second, who didn’t spend all of her time in Polis. She had never really thought that Lexa would one day be called upon for the chance to leave. She stood by the gate, wrapped in a cloak to shield her from the cool morning air. Lexa was packing the last of her possessions into her saddlebags, she wouldn’t be back to TonDC again, not to stay at least. She would be moving to Polis. The thought of losing one of her close friends threatened to bring tears to her eyes, but Clarke hardened her jaw, watching as she packed. When Lexa turned towards her, Clarke stepped forward, pulling the girl into an embrace.

“Be safe, Lexa”

“You could come with me, you know.” Lexa replied, “Costia is coming. When I am heda, I will need a good healer.”

“ _If_ you are heda.” Clarke reminded her, smiling at the surety of Lexa’s statement. “And you know that I can’t. The winter will be hard, and I am needed here. Besides, I still have much to learn from my father,” Clarke pushed a small bag to Lexa’s chest, “but take this, make sure that the healers in Polis keep you alive.”

Lexa nodded in thanks, then turned away. She moved on, clasping arms with Lincoln, thanking Anya for being her mentor, saying goodbye to others from the village. Then she mounted onto her horse, flanked by the messengers that had been sent to inform them of the previous Commander’s death. Lexa reached down and pulled Costia up, seating the girl behind her. She rose he hand as a final farewell to TonDC, and Lexa wheeled her horse around, leaving her home behind to forge a new life. Clarke turned back towards TonDC and began her daily routine.

 

Two weeks later, a messenger arrived. Lexa was Heda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to mention that since they are on the ground, the language is, for the most part, Trigedasleng. However, I will be writing it, for the most part, in English. This is both to make it easier on me, as well as on you as a reader, so you do not have to look anything up or scroll to the notes to translate. I will Italicize any Gonasleng when I start using it.
> 
> I wasn't sure if I wanted to post this in light of the recent episode, but I decided to do so anyway, considering I spent time on it. I am taking some elements of Canon, but also adapting the lore slightly and making assumptions about practices since we know rather little about the grounder society. I do want to say though that I am not going to kill Lexa with a stray bullet, and I don't think I will at all.
> 
> This is my first fic for the 100, and probably the largest project I've taken on with writing. I plan to post a chapter every week, though that may change in the future, depending on my workload at the time. I'll be posting on Saturdays and Sundays for the most part. I'm not sure how long I'll keep this going, but I will do my absolute best, comments are definitely appreciated!
> 
> <3 CryoLilly


	2. To Polis

Clarke hugged her father tightly as he pulled her into his chest. The big man gave her a wide smile, pulling back. He held her out at arm’s length and looked her over, before pulling her in for another hug.

“I’m going to miss you kid,” he said, ruffling her hair. She pulled back, trying to salvage her braids. “I know you’ll do well in Polis. You’ll do a lot of good too. You’ve outgrown us here, but I hope you don’t forget us when you’re the best healer in the coalition.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dad,” Clarke laughed, covering her mouth with her hand in embarrassment, “I’m already the best healer, and I haven’t forgotten you yet have I?”

“Don’t get cocky.”

Clarke turned to her mother, the woman standing solemnly next to her father. She nodded, a slight smile gracing her lips. Clarke knew that from her mother, it was as much as jumping for joy. She returned the gesture, before wrapping her arms around the woman, pulling her into a tight embrace. She stiffened momentarily, before returning the gesture softly. She pulled a knife from her belt before offering it to Clarke.

“Trade you,” she said, holding out a delicate and intricately carved hunting knife. Flipping it in the air to offer it hilt first.

“Mom, it’s beautiful,” she said, slipping her fingers around the wooden hilt with reverence. “I don’t think I could ever use it.”

“You will,” her mother said, “It may yet save your life as it has mine.”

Clarke pulled her own knife from its sheath on her thigh, handing it to her mother and replacing it with the new one.

“Mine is nowhere near as well crafted,” she said, “but as you well know, it has served me well.”

Her mother nodded, taking the knife with as much care as Clarke had taken the other. She nodded once more, eyes softening. Clarke felt moisture prick her eyes, and returned the nod again. She clasped arms with Lincoln, wishing the older boy well, before moving on to say goodbye to Indra.

“We will miss your bow, and your steady hands, healer.” Her leader said, standing tall in the town center. “Give Heda word of Anya.” She added quietly. Handing Clarke the severed braid that was left of the woman they had burned only three days prior. Clarke had tried to save her, even on the field of battle with the rogues who defied the coalition, Clarke had rushed to Anya’s side, surrounded by loyal warriors, but she had lost too much blood. She died on the field moments later.

Clarke nodded silently. She had reached the point where she no longer helped in the small tasks of healing around the village, her father could handle those, even as he aged. Instead, she traveled with warriors and took part in the battles, often against warriors who had turned against the commander who had been more common in the recent months. She even picked off enemies from the rear lines, and when their warriors were felled, she was at their side, trying to save them, and if that were impossible, easing their passage. But she was not good enough. The faces of those she killed in battle swam before her eyes, but the faces of those she had lost were burned into her eyelids. Whenever she closed them, she saw them all, all of the people she had failed. When she took part in her first battle, she refused kill marks, knowing that her back would never be large enough to display all of those who she had failed to save. She might as well have been the one to drive a dagger into their hearts, as far as she was concerned. Even before the recent battle, she had sent word to Polis, to the healers there. She would be traveling to join them, to learn from them, to do research herself so that she could save those who were dying all around her. Short nails biting into her palms brought her out of her reverie, and she nodded to Indra again.

She wheeled around, walking stiffly to the messenger who had arrived from Polis bringing word of confirmation that she would be welcome. She swung easily into the saddle of the brown horse, nose streaked with white; the horse she hadn’t rode in weeks due to her duties in TonDC. She suspected she would neglect him even more when she arrived in Polis, but put the thought from her mind. He would likely appreciate the freedom from her weight on her back. She swept her eyes across her home behind her one more time before touching her heels to his side, and riding away in an easy jog. The messenger allowed her to set the pace, and didn’t complain as she sped them along, urging her horse into a swift trot.

The ride to polis was usually two to three days long, but by sleeping light and riding hard, swapping between a trot and a canter, they were able to arrive by midday the second day. It had been too long since Clarke had ridden regularly, and by the time they arrived, her legs were eager for a stretch. The messenger, named Arkol, had been a silent companion for most of the ride. They had spoken some, but settled into a comfortable silence, especially since their speed of travel would often whip words away into the rumbling of hoof beats. As they arrived at the gates, Arkol raised a hand in greeting. Clarke pulled back on her reins and her horse slowed to a stop. As soon as he stopped she swung out of the saddle, grateful for the chance to walk herself. She stretched, yawning slightly and groaning at the aches from her legs and core. Of course, she had only herself to blame for the pace of the ride, and it had been nice enough. The guards pulled the gate open, one stepping forward to take her horse from her. Clarke patted his neck before handing off the reins, throwing her bags over her shoulder.

Stepping through the gate, Clarke couldn’t contain her awe as her jaw hung slack. The city was magnificent. People bustling through the street, vendors lining the road. A tall tower was the centerpiece of the city, a flame flickering at the top. A thought briefly flickered through her mind, it almost looked like a candle, before she was swept back up in observing the city. Realizing that she was standing like a fool, she closed her mouth and straightened her back, turning to Arkol, nodding to lead the way, though she could already guess where the healers would be. Her eyes trailed back towards the tower as they wound their way through the crowds. The city was so alive and thriving around her, it felt like a living, breathing creature with people rushing through its veins. The smell of food floated on the air, and her stomach gurgled, urging her towards the stands where they cooked foods she had never seen before. Judging by the smell, she wouldn’t question what it was. She forced herself to pay attention to Arkol as he led the way towards the tower.

She bid him farewell at the base of the tower, as he needed to return to other duties, before turning and ascending the steps and entering the tower. The guards watched her as she approached, but when she explained that she was looking for the healers, they lightened their scrutiny and directed her up the tower. The healers were near the top, and the thought of climbing up daunted her before she learned of the pulley system. She was able to ride a platform that ascended as guards pushed a wheel on the ground level. The way it worked was beyond her, as much as it intrigued her, and she was simply grateful for not needing to climb stairs or a ladder on her weary legs. The platform stopped at what she was assumed to be 3 floors from the top. As she stepped off, two men in robes approached her.

“You are Klark kom trigedakru?” one asked

“Yes,” she replied, “I assume this means you received my message.”

“We did, we have prepared a room for you.” The other said. The two explained that the most able healers slept near the top of the tower in order to be near the commander in times of need; however, many of the healers living in Polis had homes in the city, and we able to use a room near the base of the tower as workspace, particularly in times of war. When she mentioned having a message for the commander, they told her that she was to meet with her anyway, and to head to the top of the tower after settling into her room for a moment.

Her room was modestly sized, there were shelves along the walls and a raised bed covered in furs. There was also a small closet with a few drawers, and a table with two chairs, near the bed, a door led into a small bathroom with a table with a basin, a water pump, and a mirror. There were candles on some of the shelves, by the bed, and on the table. She set her bags on the bed, and removed some of her jars and vials, placing them on the shelves. She also took the time to unpack her clothes, few as they were. She stripped off her traveling clothes, sighing as the sweaty fabric pulled away from her skin, before changing into more comfortable clothing. She adjusted her braids in the mirror, then pulled on her lightly armored jacket. She slipped her knife into the strap at her thigh, but left her bow and quiver on the table in the room, reluctantly hovering her hand over them before turning and leaving. She closed the door softly behind her and climbed the two flights of stairs to the top of the tower. She was stopped by two guards flanking the doors to the commander’s chambers.

“Heda is in a council meeting,” one said when met with her questioning look.

“I was told to speak with her, and I have a message” she said, leaning against the opposite wall. “I will wait until they are finished.”

She stood, back pressed against the wall for quite some time, lost in thought. She had the patience of a hunter, but as minutes dragged into hours, she began to stiffen. However, it was her duty to stay and pay her respects to her leader, as well as to bring news from TonDC. When the doors flew open, ambassadors from the twelve clans streamed from the room, some of them hurrying. As they left down the lowering platform, Clarke was motioned in by the guards with whom she left her knife. As she entered, she encountered Lexa for the first time in nearly three years. She had seen her ride into town two years after her rise to commander, but the last time Lexa was in TonDC, Clarke had been extraordinarily busy, and hadn’t seen her when she met with Anya. The Commander sat, legs crossed, on a throne of twisted wood and antlers. A large window behind her allowing the lowering sun to stream in around her, creating an ethereal glow around her hair in sharp contrast to her dark warpaint. She held a knife in her hand, languidly twirling the edge against the arm of her throne, flanked by two guards. Clarke dropped to a knee, bowing before her, lowering her head in respect.

“Heda, I arrive from TonDC,” she said, holding the bow, “I bring news of matters therein.”

She looked up slightly, hearing motion, as the Commander stood, and walked towards her. Clarke could scarcely believe that this woman before her had once been a simple child, the Commander was hardly Lexa.

“Rise, tell me what brings you to Polis, Klark kom trigedakru.”

Clarke stood, looking the woman she once knew in the eye, and was reminded of when she was first caught in her gaze. She froze, just as she had that day nearly thirteen years previously, held captive by the emerald green of the forest that looked back at her calmly. Clarke reached into the pouch at her belt, withdrawing the length of dark blonde braid that Indra had given her.

“I come bringing news of Anya’s death.” She said quietly, holding the braid forward, “you were her second, she and Indra wanted you to have this. Indra is now the leader of trikru.” The Commander nodded, and Clarke saw the sorrow flash in her eyes. Clarke was reminded that this was still the girl she grew up with. She motioned for the guards to leave, and when they hesitated, she verbally dismissed them. Once they had left, she turned back to Clarke.

“Tell me Clarke,” she said, returning to sit in her throne, toying with her knife once more, “how did she die?”

“Be careful,” Clarke couldn’t stop herself, “the last time I saw you playing with a knife, you stabbed your hand.”

Lexa cocked her head to the side, looking at her curiously, before her face lit in recognition. “I remember that, we were quite young. It was the first time I held a knife. I am much more able now, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded, returning to the subject at hand, “Anya died on the field of battle.” She began, “We were engaged in a skirmish with rogue warriors, they refused to recognize the Coalition, and so we rode against them.” She explained her role in combat, and how Anya had been cut down as she fought against five of the enemy. “She took all of them with her,” Clarke explained, “she died moments after I was able to reach her.”

She noticed how Lexa’s fingers ghosted across the braided lock of hair, once again remembering how this was still the girl she had grown up with, who had trained under Anya.

“I heard about Costia,” Clarke said, suddenly uncomfortable, “the others back home send their condolences. I am sorry.”

“Love is weakness, Clarke.” Lexa replied, coolly, “I recognized love for what it is, and I moved on.” They stood for a moment, Lexa looked at her quietly, and Clarke returning her gaze, unsure what to say.

“I can’t accept that,” she settled for breaking the silence with the only words she could muster. She opened her mouth to say more, but the scent of cooking interrupted her. She could almost hear the sizzling of meat over the fire, and her stomach sounded its approval of the scents. Lexa stepped back from her, and walked past her towards the door.

“You haven’t eaten, have you,” it wasn’t a question. She opened the door slightly, speaking to the guards, “Have food brought up, enough for two.”

“You don’t have to,” Clarke began, “you don’t have to have food brought for me, I can provide for myself.”

“I have no doubt that you can, your mother is a skilled huntress and I can recall the last time I doubted your aim with a bow,” Lexa led the way through a door to the side of the council room, motioning for Clarke to follow, “However, in Polis, you need not provide for yourself. There is food here, and I would like to hear more of TonDC, so sit, and eat.”

Clarke sat in the chair indicated by Lexa. They had entered what seemed to be the Commander’s apartments. The room they were in was large enough to hold a long table, at which they now sat, as well as another window looking out over the city of Polis. There was a door leading out of the room that likely led into more private rooms. Soon enough, guards brought food in, and as soon as she brought it to her lips, she realized just how hungry she had been. As good of an idea it was at the time, ignoring a midday meal in favour of a few strips of dried meat in the saddle had not done favours to appease her hunger. She devoured the food placed before her, and gratefully accepted the wine the guards offered her, quenching her thirst. In between bites, she explained to Lexa some of the recent events in TonDC. She mentioned the increase in rogue warriors who seemed hell bent on tearing apart the fragile peace, explaining the way in which she had been taking part in the battles. She told Lexa of how Indra now led trikru, and how they had lost many warriors, and while they were not entirely vulnerable, they were weakened by the attacks.

“I will send warriors to aid them as soon as they can be spared.” Lexa offered.

“If I might ask, what is it that binds them here?” Clarke asked, she knew there were many warriors stationed within Polis, and from her entrance into the city, she had thought the city was at peace, “I do not wish to speak out of turn, but it does not seem to me that they are needed within the city as much as they may be in the outskirts of trikru lands.”

“I understand Clarke, and I appreciate your voice,” Lexa hesitated, “we are not at war within the city, but many warriors are needed here, and many yet are needed in their homes. Warriors do need to spend some of their time tending to their families.”

“And what of you, Heda, have you returned home?”

“I do not have such luxuries, Clarke.” She felt a twinge of sadness in the other girl’s voice, “However, my people are my family, and I tend to them all as I must.”

It occurred to Clarke how little control the other woman actually had. Looking into those green eyes, she understood that Lexa did not make choices for herself, she was obligated to make choices for her people, for all of her people.

“You’re your people too, Lexa.” Clarke whispered, unsure if the other girl could hear.

*    *    *

Clarke stood at the edge of a table, knife in hand. The body before her had died the day before, a large gash on the side of his chest. In TonDC, they burned their dead, and she had never been given the chance to look into the anatomy of a body. In Polis, they burned the dead, but occasionally, the healers were allowed a body for research. Her hands, slicked in blood, explored the body’s organs. She focused on the locations of the damage to the body, what she could see and feel. She ran her hands over bones, memorizing their locations in relation to other parts of the body. If she knew where everything was, she would be able to pinpoint fatal injuries, and she would know how to prevent mistakes in the future. She focused on the purpose of her research, trying to ignore the fact that her hands were inside of a dead body. Her stomach churned each time blood pushed between her fingers. She heard the door open behind her, twisting to peek at whoever had entered.It was Lexa, dressed in comfortable clothing, with a hood draped around her shoulders.

“Sorry, you came in at…” Clarke looked back at her hands, “at a bad time.”

Clarke withdrew her hands as she turned around, leaning back against the table. She almost crossed her arms, but stopped as she realized what she was doing. Instead, she walked over to a basin of water on a nearby table. And rinsed her hand, scrubbing with a scrap cloth to clean her hands of the blood. Lexa watched patiently as she cleaned herself.

“So, what brings you to this gruesome chamber?” Clarke asked, “I didn’t kill that guy, I swear.”

“You have not left the tower,” Lexa said. Clarke nodded. In the previous week, she had spent all of her time in her own room or with the healers. She hadn’t had much time to explore Polis, as much as it drew her to the window when she awoke. “Polis is full of wonders, unlike any from TonDC. I have finished my meetings for the day. Should you wish it, I will show you the city.”

Clarke looked back in surprise, “O-of course, Heda, let me clean up quickly.” She stammered, then gestured to some of the guards by the door, “dispose of this body, I’ve learned all I can. Heda, may I go to your chambers once I am cleaned?”

Lexa nodded, then turned around and left. Clarke was left staring at the door, unsure what it was that made her so nervous. The commander had just invited her on a tour of the city, a great honor. Her stomach flipped, and she looked down at her hands. She realized they were still slightly red, and she rushed from the room. She washed in the baths provided in the tower, and put on some of her more comfortable clothing. She made a mental note to remember any traders who had clothing in the city. She hadn’t been able to bring all of her things with her, and considering the approaching winter, she needed to find something more to wear. She pulled on her jacket then draped a hood around her shoulders, recalling what Lexa had been wearing. Climbing the stairs, she once again wondered at the Commander taking her around the city herself.

Clarke imagined that Lexa truly hadn’t had anyone to spend her time with since Costia, especially at her comment about love. Love is weakness, she had said. Clarke ran the words through her head, but they as much as she could understand where they were coming from, she really couldn’t let go of her discomfort with that. She may not necessarily love all of her patients, but in doing her job, she treats them with care in order to ensure their survival. She loved her mother and father. Because of her love she had become a healer and huntress, following in their footsteps to become the woman she was today. Her parents love for her had shaped her as a person to care for those around her, and she applied that care to save lives each day. Having support from their love allowed her to survive loses that she faced, and her father had helped her to cope with the ghosts of those she had failed.

She found the door to the council chamber unguarded. Entering, she scanned the room to find Lexa. Failing that, she knocked on the door into the room where they had eaten when she had first arrived. She paused, wondering if she should enter if there were no response, but the door opened and Lexa stood before her in the same clothing as before.

“Let us go,” she said, pulling her hood up and leading the way.

“Why do you wear a hood, Heda?” Clarke asked, “Do you wish to remain unseen?”

“I would like to walk among my people, as they do. It can be easy for a leader to become detached from her people, but I try to see the world from their perspective as often as I can. I occasionally am able to walk among them, and a hood allows me to remain unseen.” Clarke nodded in understanding, the other woman did have distinct features. She imagined it would be difficult to blend into a crowd, even with a hood.

She pulled up her own hood and followed her leader closely, standing a step behind her and to the side. She knew that Lexa was showing her the city, but she was still the Commander, and her superior in every way. As they stepped out of the tower, the evening air felt cool on her skin, she sighed feeling the wind sweep through the city. She hadn’t had much time outside in the past week and she had missed the feeling. Even though the tower was largely open, she was used to spending almost all of her time outside, even occasionally sleeping in tents or in trees, not as much used to spending every day inside. She resolved to spend more time walking the city. She watched as candles and fires were lit throughout the city, forming a lattice of light laid over the city.

“I suppose it would be good for you to know where the gate is from the tower,” Lexa turned to her, “I imagine that you did not have much time to pay attention to directions when you arrived.”

Clarke nodded her agreement, following Lexa as she led her away from the tower. There were citizens milling about in the streets, but far fewer than at midday when she had arrived. She assumed that most people had gone home to their families at this hour. She was able to pay attention to the path to the gate much more easily this time than when she had arrived. Lexa led her silently through the city, strolling easily in the streets. Clarke gazed around in wonder at the city, only now having the chance to take it in at ground level. Once again, there were stands lining the road, some cooking food, others with trinkets and other crafts for sale. Her stomach growled as she smelled food, reminding her that she had not eaten since much earlier in the day. Clarke thought she saw Lexa’s lips turn up slightly as she looked back.

“Are you hungry?” She didn’t wait for an answer, simply leading the way towards one of the stands. She requested two skewers of what Clarke recognized as rabbit. Seeing who it was, the woman selling the food tried to refuse payment, but Lexa insisted, pressing the coins into the woman’s hand. She handed one to Clarke, who reached for her purse. Lexa waved her off. “I have meals prepared for me each day, Clarke, I can pay for one myself.”

Clarke nodded and tore into her skewer, savoring the flavour of the meat. She smiled at the woman who had cooked it, nodding her thanks and appreciation. From what she had learned, the cooking in Polis seemed to have far more spices and herbs than they had access to in TonDC, likely due to being the trade capitol. Or perhaps it had to do with the number of people, each bringing different customs for preparing food from their own homes. Whatever the reason, Clarke savoured the chance to eat meals that each tasted differently.

“What do you think of Polis, Clarke?” Lexa’s voice startled her out of her reverie. The other woman had been mostly silent as they walked, but now she spoke up.

“Well, you know that I haven’t left the tower much, but it is beautiful. There are so many people, and so much is different from home.” She trailed off, thinking of her mother and father.

“They are preparing for the festival.” Lexa explained, gesturing to the people bustling about. “This year was a good one for harvest and trade alike, and so there will be a magnificent celebration taking part in a week.” Clarke noticed her jaw clench after she stopped, as if there was something else to say, but that she couldn’t. They reached the gate to the city, and Lexa led the way along the wall, Clarkes fingers trailed lightly across the surface of the wall. It transitioned between stone and metal and wood, cobbled together to create a cohesive whole. She could hear the sounds of nature just on the other side, the evening bringing together all of those sounds that never met. She heard crickets, and the gurgling of a stream, the soft chirp of birds. She could hear the voices of children playing nearby, parents grumbling wearily as they were dragged along. It suddenly struck her just how _alive_ everything was.

The dead warrior lying on the cold table in the tower came back to her. She remembered the feeling of her hands inside his body, already cooled after death. She stopped walking, closing her eyes to try and gain control of the images, instead she only saw more faces. Those she had killed in battle, those who had been killed like Anya, and those who had died after. She remembered a young warrior who received a graze from an arrow. She had patched him in the field and allowed him to continue fighting. By the time the fighting had stopped, he had fallen to his knees. Poison had taken over his system, and it was her fault. She watched him die. Watched the light fade from his eyes. She dropped to her knees, hands pushing over her eyes, trying to contain the memories. It was just too much. They all had families, people who loved them. The man who’s corpse she had torn apart, and for what? She had barely learned anything at all. She felt strong arms surround her as she shuddered on the ground, and could vaguely hear someone speaking to her, but she couldn’t make out the words.

She slowly came to, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. It took her a moment to realize where she was. She was sitting on the ground, the Commander crouching next to her, holding her carefully. Looking around, she scrambled to her feet, feeling unsteady.

“Clarke,” Lexa stood up, hesitating to approach, “what happened? Where did you go?”

“I… I couldn’t save them.” She said quietly.

“Who couldn’t you save?”

“Anybody, take your pick,” Clarke spat, suddenly filled with anger. At whom? She wasn’t sure. “Anya, that warrior I cut open today, Jeriah, Kalis, Lorey,” names spilled from her lips. She remembered them all. All of the people she had vowed to protect, to heal, and who had died, because she couldn’t help them. “It’s my fault that they are dead. Someone else may have held the knife, but it might as well have been me. Every time.”

“It’s not your fault, Clarke.”

“But isn’t it? I have a responsibility. It is my job to save lives, just like it is yours to lead, or the huntress to gather food. I am a healer, it is what I do.” Her hands were balled into fists, nails biting into her palms, “If I can’t save people, then I am useless. If I don’t save them, then I deserve to be saved myself.”

“Clarke, I would like to show you something.” Lexa stepped forward, reaching out to lightly take hold of her wrist. Clarke allowed herself to be led, unsure of how to handle the Commander taking hold of her. They walked along the wall in silence, thoughts constantly running through Clarke’s head, but the pressure on her wrist kept her walking forward. It kept her grounded, and prevented her from losing herself in the images of those she had failed. When Lexa stopped walking, Clarke realized that they had entered a small park. Trees grew around her, a small section of untouched nature within the city walls. Lexa had led her to a clearing where moss grew thickly on the ground, and looking up she could see the stars glimmering overhead.

“This is a place where I can take a moment away from the city.” Lexa explained, sitting on the moss. “I like to come here when my duties pile up, when the work I must do becomes too much.” Clarke sat, following the other woman’s lead. She realized that this was a deeply personal admission for Lexa. Some would call her weak for this admission, Clarke only saw it as human. “Here, I can sit, and not have to think about being Heda. The trees do not care for my title, neither does the moss, or any of the animals for that matter. A bear will eat me all the same, although I don’t believe any bears are within the city.”

“Lexa, I cut a man open today,” Clarke blurted out, “he was dead and had a family, and I just stuck my hands inside of his body to try and learn something new, but I learned almost nothing.” She paused, and realized her mistake, “Heda, I am sorry, I just, I shouldn’t have called you by name, I—” she tried to correct herself.

“Clarke.” Lexa held up a hand, “you may call me Lexa. I do not mind.”

Clarke nodded hesitantly, then continued. “I just… I can’t justify what I am doing. And it’s my fault that people keep dying.”

“You cannot save everyone, Clarke.”

“Every time I close my eyes, I see them.”

“I see them too.” The words startled Clarke. She looked up from her hands, staring at the other girl, who only met her gaze. She wondered what secrets those eyes held.

“You mean…”

“The soldiers I order to battle, their deaths are on my hands, as are the deaths of all of the warriors who died in battle against our forces. They had families; they had children and mothers and fathers and wives and husbands. I’ve razed villages to the ground, I would have wiped out entire clans had they not submitted to the coalition.” Her voice broke, “My hands, the commander’s hands, are covered in the blood of thousands.”

Clarke was shocked. Lexa, Heda of the 12 clans, had killed so many people. She stood, stoic, leading her people in countless wars, never faltering. Yet here, the other woman was telling her that those decisions weighed heavily.

“But you were just doing what was best for your people,” Clarke said, “You protect us, you keep everyone safe.”

“I send warriors to their deaths.” Lexa corrected her, “Anya died because of my coalition, because of the opposition that I cannot quench.” Her jaw clenched once again, and Clarke saw the same look of holding back. Something was wrong.

“Lexa, what is going on?” she asked quietly, “I’ve seen them in battle, they aren’t uncoordinated rogues. They aren’t like the reapers, dangerous and wild, they are something else entirely. They are coordinated.”

“Clarke…”

“TonDC is in the middle of it. And it feels like a war zone. Don’t they have a right to know what they are up against? Don’t I?” Lexa hesitated, and when she spoke it was slowly.

“The attacks, they are not random.” She started, and as she explained, her voice was softy, but it held an anger that Clarke hadn’t heard before, “you are right, they are coordinated. It feels like we are fighting a war against an invisible enemy, but I think I know who it is.”

“Who? Who wants to destroy this peace?”

“Nia, Azplana.” She spat the name, “She has opposed the coalition since the beginning, but not openly. She is the one who sent Costia’s head to my bed. Then she joined the Coalition, and I had to pardon her. I needed to make peace, we had worse enemies than one another, or so I thought. I thought that the peace would allow us to fight the reapers, but the process has been slow. And at every turn, she stands, questioning my decisions. Azgeda may have the largest army, but when the other 11 clans stand behind me, she cannot act. However, the rogues have only made it harder to fight back reapers, and we cannot move on the offensive. The council has grown impatient.”

“That’s why you are constantly in meetings…”

“Nia has suggested bringing in her army. She says that rogue activity has been wiped out in Azgeda, she says that if she brought her army into the lands of the other clans, she could wipe them out.” Lexa’s voice faltered, “She makes it look like I am weak, like I cannot maintain control over our people. The council has begun to lean towards her. If she were to declare me unfit to rule, I am no longer sure who would remain loyal.”

“Well we have to do something, we can’t just let her treat you like this.”

“We?” Lexa raised her eyebrows. Clarke paused, realizing her rushed use of the phrase. The leaves rustled around them as the silence grew.

“I—I just meant that…I mean you shouldn’t have to do this alone…I know I don’t really have any place in this, but I just,” Even taking time to think through her reply hadn’t helped, “I misspoke, I’m sorry.”

“Clarke, I appreciate your advice, and your support.” It was only then that Clarke realized that Lexa’s lips were turned up into a slight smirk. “I have been trying to see what can be done about Nia, but tell me, what do you think you would do in my situation?”

“Can you kill her?”

Lexa laughed, harsh and mirthless.

“If the situation were that simple, it would have been done when she killed Costia.” Clarke cast her eyes downward, “No, I cannot kill her. It would do little to reinforce my hold, and the council would likely overthrow me. She wants me to break the peace. She wants me to lose everything that I have worked towards.”

“What about playing her game?” Clarke suggested, an idea forming.

“How do you mean?”

“We don’t need to attack her directly, only her people, like she has been attacking us to get to you. If she has been using her army to reinforce the rogues, then she has less power than she would seem to have.” Clarke explained, “From my experience in battle, we have been suffering loses but only because they overwhelm us with numbers. The dissidents are seemingly endless, and that is our problem. Whenever we kill them, they step up once more. If it is as you say, and they are truly Azgeda, then their numbers are not endless, and the army that backs them has been decreasing in power each time they attack.”

Lexa nodded, listening closely, Clarke could see that she was beginning to understand.

“This means that Nia’s army is weak. She has been supporting the dissidents at the cost of her own power, and fighting guerilla warfare is effective only when we do not know enough about our enemy. But now we know that there is an army behind this. If there is an army, then they have a base of operations. Especially if they are in a land other than their home, which they must be. Azgeda lands are too far for easy reinforcement, they must be staying somewhere in Trigedakru lands. How they hid from us, I do not know, likely because we were looking for dissidents, small unorganized bands of people, not for an army. Lexa, we should ride to TonDC. Take a force with us, skilled warriors, not large enough to draw suspicion. Once they know what to look for, it will be easier to find the army. If anything, we can capture one of their people. Make him talk.”

Lexa considered it for a moment before speaking. “Our people are not easy to interrogate, you know how we don’t speak under torture. And what of Nia? And how will we defeat the army?”

“One step at a time, Heda,” Clarke said, “Nia may slip up before we even act. So far, you have been frustrated with the rogues, because they seem never to die. You may not have shown it, but the others must have felt it.” Clarke looked at Lexa, seeing exactly how to bring Nia down. “I imagine you have been formulating ways to defeat them. However, the ambassadors from the Ice Nation may be reporting on you, on what you say and what the other ambassadors say. It wouldn’t work if you were to develop any plans with them. Perhaps, you can brush them off. Dismiss the dissidents as a minor threat, then in some days, perhaps after the festival, you can ride to TonDC. If you allow it, I would go with you.”

“I must think on this Clarke. What you have suggested is different. I have not often been one for manipulation.”

The wind blew around them, leaves rustling in the trees. Clarke realized that they had sat well into the night. She shivered and stood, seeing Lexa do the same. She began walking towards the tower, but before exiting the clearing, she looked back at Clarke.

“Perhaps you too were born to lead.”

Clarke smiled slightly, her lips just turning up at the edges. “Reshop, Heda.”

“Reshop, Klark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is a day late. I had a hard time writing this week. It's also a bit on the shorter side, and I'm not happy about that, but I am beginning to realize that 10,000 words a week may be a bit ambitious when it's just a casual project. I actually wanted to write more for this chapter, but the next scene might be a bit too long to get done in time, so I decided to break it off. I hope you'll excuse any mistakes I made in the writing, as I said this is mostly just a personal exercise in writing. I'm not doing much review considering, I'm mostly just working on learning how to write longer stuff.
> 
> That being said, I'm stoked that you guys seem to be enjoying this, at least some of you do. If you want to follow me, I run the blog queerelladeville on tumblr; it's mostly gay stuff and clexa and lexark recently.
> 
> In the future I'll be trying to get these out on Sundays like I promised, but it may be hard getting in the swing of it. Before starting this, I wasn't writing anything so I need to kick it up a notch. So for the next few weeks, I may be posting on Mondays or posting shorter chapters, but I aim to start ramping them up and getting the story going.


	3. The Festival

The morning of the harvest festival came sooner than Clarke had anticipated. She had spent much of the week spending time in the city, and she had started to rush through her obligations in order to spend time walking the streets. A few times, she had met with Lexa to discuss their plan. Lexa had agreed to follow through, but they had yet to solve the problem of what to do with the army once they found it. They could hardly fight Azgeda with only the Trikru army, and Lexa couldn’t draw support from the other clans without suspicion. Clarke had started to look forward to their meetings, easily slipping into conversation. As much as she enjoyed and thrived in her role as healer, she found it strange how smoothly she was able to conspire with Lexa and plan for war. She blamed it on the time spent with Anya in the past few years as she rode as her healer.

The festival would begin around midday, and Lexa had told her that she would be welcome to join her in exploring the entertainment. Clarke was unsure just what she had meant by entertainment, and had no idea what to expect from the festival. The closest they had ever come to a festival in TonDC was a feast among the village, and she had skipped many of those to tend to the sick and wounded. She spent the morning lounging and preparing, looking through the clothing she had purchased to find an ensemble that would befit a time of celebration. She settled on comfortable pants, close to her skin, warm and mobile. She wore a practical shirt, but one that had been a bit nicer. The fabric was drawn together with laces across her back. She had bought a new jacket to wear, made of leather with additional cloth and metal on the shoulders and arms. It was comfortable and practical, and somewhat official looking. It would also serve as a light armor, which could be useful in the coming days. She wore her hair loose with a few small braids to hold it out of her face.

Around midday, she was summoned to the council chambers. Lexa would be making an announcement to the council, congratulating the coalition on continued peace and a fruitful harvest. Lexa would also be the one to officially begin the festival, as much as Clarke suspected many in the city had already begun the celebration. She made her way up to the top of the tower, entering the council room silently. There were other healers and people that she had seen working in the tower on the outsides of the room. She stood among them and looked towards Lexa. She sat in her throne, the light streaming in from the window reminding her of when she had been kneeling in front of the throne. The Commander looked absolutely regal. The red sash draped across her shoulders reminding Clarke of the blood the woman had spilled in order to hold control over the coalition. She was reminded once more of the duality of the woman who led them. Heda needed to be powerful, strong, a woman ruling with an iron fist. Lexa, on the other hand, was still a young girl, only in her early twenties, and while Clarke knew that Commanders often ascended young, and did not survive to be elders, it still shook her to remember the nature of the woman leading them.

Lexa rose her hands, silencing any murmurs in the room. Clarke wasn’t sure if she could have spoken in that moment even if she had wanted to. Then Lexa stood.

“This day marks another year of peace. Our nations have all prospered immensely under my coalition. We have traded among clans, and where each is weak, the other support them. Divided, we were weak, but now we have united as one. The dangers of the Maunon still plague us, just as the reapers still take our people. However, I know that soon, we will be able to crush them. Divided, we would have failed, but our strength has grown through this bond that now connects all of us.”

“What of the dissidents?” A voice called out. Clarke’s head snapped in the direction of the voice, but couldn’t place it as murmurs of agreement swept through the people gathered in the room. “They oppose this coalition, yet you act as if we are at peace.”

“The Rogues, like all who stood before me, will crumble and fall.” Lexa stood tall, and none would have argued her power, “I have eliminated all forces that have opposed this coalition thus far, you have no reason to assume that I would fail to do so. I will crush them. This rag-tag band of criminals who opposes me will not survive long.” She glared at the room before softening her expression, taking up a more neutral tone, “However, today is not a time to worry about these things. It is a celebration of prosperity in the 12 clans. Go now, enjoy the festivities. I am sure that the city has already begun in revelry and celebration.”

Clarke felt a smile tug at her lips as she watched the others in the room bustle out of the room. Many of them seemed eager to join in on the festivities, it was an interesting contrast seeing guards that usually stood by the Commander pushing to join their families and friends in a night of celebration. She hung back, letting the others go through the doorway, hoping that once the others had left, Lexa would take her up on the offer. She figured it wouldn’t be the case that the Commander would want to spend the festival with her, but she hoped the other girl would at least introduce her to the evening. She soon realized that her fears had been misplaced, as when the room was cleared, she saw Lexa still standing by her throne, watching as the last of the people in the room filed out. She had apparently already dismissed her guards for the afternoon, for they were gone as well. Lexa’s eyes found hers, and Clarke found herself walking forwards, towards the middle of the room.

“Planning on spending all day here, Heda?” Clarke teased, smiling, “Or perhaps you would allow me to take you up on your offer to show me the festival.”

She could see a slight upturn at the corners of Lexa’s lips, and she quickly brought her gaze back to the other woman’s eyes.

“Of course, Clarke.” Lexa said, stepping down from the raised platform around her throne. She walked towards the door, Clarke falling in step just slightly behind her and to the side. “What would you like to see first?”

“Just show me your favourites.”

Clarke thought she caught another ghost of a smile as they descended the tower. On the street level, the city was well and alive. There were stands on the sides of the street, even more so than with the usual vendors, now with people giving out food and drink. There were games and prizes, and children running all throughout the streets, hiding in the knees of the crowd. Clarke was amazed by the sheer comfort and ease of the display. While TonDC was not at war, they had always been on their toes. The outskirts of their land was dangerous, especially with the recent attacks, and Clarke had grown up in a world of constant danger. If it wasn’t other people trying to kill you, it was the land itself, and she had grown used to that fact, even using it to her advantage. Sure, they had grown to work in conjunction with the land, but it was still a dangerous and unforgiving world. Here, however, the people were within protective walls, in the heart of the coalition. Violence was a part of life, but it did not dominate.

She followed Lexa as she led her through the crowds. The food smelled amazing, and she couldn’t keep her mouth from watering as she looked at all of the stands giving out food. It seemed that during the festival, they gave the food out without any charge, similar to the way food was treated in TonDC. Clarke was unsure how well the larger city would work had it constantly implemented her home’s attitude of “each person does their duty” without any sort of payment, but it seemed that all of the divides were put aside in the festival. The whole city had come together in preparation. She nearly lost Lexa in the crowd, but felt a strong hand grab onto her wrist as she was dragged towards one of the stands. Lexa had brought her right to the source of smell, and she handed her a small flatbread covered in shredded meat and salad.

“Aleya makes this wonderful bread,” Lexa explained, taking a bite of her own food, “and last year she worked with Oren and his family to create this dish. I am glad to see that they are doing so again.” As she spoke, she gestured to the people working behind the stand, preparing hot food for all of the waiting city folk. Clarke wolfed down the flatbread, and Lexa was right, the bread itself was amazing, especially with its toppings. But before she could say so, Lexa had tugged her gently towards a more open area.

On their way, Lexa was stopped by citizens who wanted to talk to her. Some just thanking her for her leadership, others asking questions. Clarke enjoyed watching her interact with them. She was so different from the leader she had seen announce the festival, and proclaim the destruction of her enemies. Instead, Clarke could see just how much Lexa truly cared for the people of Polis. For each person who stopped her, Lexa took the time to speak to them. Clarke found herself smiling as she watched.

“What?” Lexa asked, looking at her curiously.

“You are so caring towards your people, us I guess.” Clarke said, realizing that she too was one of the citizens who Lexa spent time with, “It is quite different from the powerful warrior I saw not long ago.”

“A powerful warrior must not always make war.”

 

They had arrived in an open square with a few games that had been set up. Clarke could see warriors dueling, as well as contests in knife throwing, a game with small balls thrown into buckets, and her eyes lit up seeing an archery contest.

“Lexa!” she said pointing at the targets, “I bet I could beat you.”

“Is that a challenge, Clarke?” she swore she heard a chuckle from the Commander.

“If you dare to accept.” Clarke said, “I personally remember the last time you thought you were better than me at archery.”

“That was a long time ago, I have trained much since then.”

“Then you are confident you can beat me?”

“Perhaps.” Lexa followed her towards the range, feigning reluctance, “I will accept your challenge.”

When they asked the man running the contest to try, he grinned and easily accepted. He pushed back the crowd that had begun to form around them, each eager to watch their Commander display her skill. When he handed the bow to Clarke, she grinned cockily, before offering it to Lexa.

“Why don’t you go first, Heda.” She offered. Lexa took the bow from her and lined up for her first shot. The contest was made of three targets, each smaller and further than the last. The first was relatively simple, the second was significantly smaller, and the third was only the center of a target on a moving track. Lexa nocked the first arrow, drew back and fired into the target, scoring a bulls-eye. The crowd clapped for her as Lexa handed the bow off to Clarke.

“I hit dead center, not sure how you plan to beat that.” Lexa smirked. Clarke took the bow, testing its pull.

“Come now, that is yongon’s work.” Clarke frowned, the draw weight was lighter than what she was used to, but she took the opportunity to taunt her opponent. “But, Heda, this bow’s draw weight is hardly half that of mine. Don’t tell me you wield such weak bows in Polis!”

“See it as an added challenge, then.”

Clarke took up her position. Eying her target, she nocked an arrow, then looked Lexa in the eyes. The target was dead ahead, there barely any wind, but it would pull the arrow just to the left, she had to compensate more for drop with the lighter bow. In her mind’s eye, she watched the arrow loose from the bow and strike into the target.

“Remember this move?” she winked, drawing the bow smoothly and letting the arrow loose. It thudded into the target, effectively enlarging the hole where Lexa’s arrow still protruded. The crowd murmured in approval, but Lexa only shook her head at her.

“Shof op, Klark.”

Lexa grabbed the bow from Clarke’s hand, fingertips just brushing her knuckles in the motion. Clarke’s breath hitched momentarily but she ignored it, turning back to the task at hand. This target would be more difficult than the last. It was well within the bow’s range, but the distance and the change in size was a challenge. Lexa lined up with the target, nocking the arrow the owner had given her to the string as she pulled back. Clarke watched her breathe in, and let the arrow fly as she breathed out. The arrow flew true and landed just inside of the center ring of the target.

Clarke had accepted the bow back, and was preparing for her shot, when the wind began increasing in speed.

“Oh come now, this is hardly fair.” She complained.

“Fire the arrow, Clarke.”

Clarke ignored the teasing tone and decided that the target and the wind would be challenge enough. She felt the wind pull around her, feeling out the path of the arrow more than aiming, she pulled her bow up, fletching tickling her cheek, as she loosed the arrow. It flew true and struck the bulls-eye of the target. She breathed out a sigh of what she convinced herself wasn’t relief. Of course it was then that the wind decided to die down. She smirked, returning the bow to Lexa.

“Final shot, Heda.” Clarke teased, “Don’t miss.”

Lexa didn’t reply. She took the bow and the final arrow from the owner of the contest. She lined up for the final target, which moved back and forth on a track. This target was effectively a cut out of the center of the second target. Clarke could see the focus and determination in Lexa’s eyes. Once again she could see as the other girl breathed deeply, holding the bow out for the shot. Lexa blinked, then fired. The arrow sailed through the air towards the target, and it seemed to hang there for an eternity before thudding into the target just at it passed by on the track. Clarke couldn’t help herself from joining in with the crowd’s cheering. It was a very difficult shot, and one that Lexa had made to look easy and natural. She really had improved with her archery. But Clarke knew she was better. She hadn’t spent years with fingertips raw from her bowstring as she trained each day for nothing. She hadn’t hunted for days on end, sometimes sleeping in trees to catch her prey, to not be the best at this craft. She healed because she could help people. She fired her bow because she enjoyed it, and had spent every second of down time with her bow in hand.

She took her place before the target, taking the bow from Lexa. She had no taunting words for this moment, only calm focus as she thought about her shot. She turned to the owner.

“May I use an extra arrow?” she asked. When he looked at her confused, she smiled sweetly, “please? I will hit the target with this arrow,” she tapped the one he had already given her, “but I want to fire two.”

He passed her another arrow, still confused, but she figured she had won him over with her charm. She turned to Lexa as she pulled back the bow, holding the string with her first two fingers and the extra arrow between her pinky and ring finger.

“This arrow,” she said, brushing the feathers with her fingertips, “will strike the target.”

Lexa nodded, but Clarke could tell that she was equally confused. Clarke ignored her and focused on the shot before her. She aimed towards the target, taking into account the slight wind and the motion of the target before her. She closed her eyes, once again visualizing what would happen, taking only the time to blink. Her eyes snapped, she leaned back, tilting the bow upwards and firing the arrow almost straight up into the air. Smoothly, she flicked her second arrow up and onto the string, pulling it back easily and aiming just below where she needed to in order to hit the target. She fired the second arrow, and as it flew, the first arrow fell from the sky, pointing downward. The second arrow embedded near the fletching of the first, causing them both to pivot under their combined momentum. The point of the first arrow rotated upwards just as the target moved by on the track, embedding into the soft wood.

A smile broke out across Clarkes face as she turned to Lexa.

“Did you _see_ that shot?” She squealed, nearly yelling. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I would make it, my own bow has more heft to it, so I can count on the rotation, and since I didn’t make these arrows I wasn’t sure if they had the same axis of rotation but I decided to try and do it anyway and holyshitdidyouevenseethatshot?”

She stopped to take a moment to breathe and noticed that Lexa was smiling. It wasn’t what most people would call a smile, but she imagined it was the closest the Commander ever got to smiling.

“What?” Clarke asked Lexa, wondering what had made her smile.

“You are very enthusiastic about archery.” The other girl said simply, “It was an honor to test my skills against yours. And thank you,” she turned to the owner of the contest, “for allowing us to take part.”

“The honor was mine, Heda,” Clarke said at the same time as the owner. She looked to him and flashed another smile. As Clarke and Lexa walked away from the game, they looked around at the others in the square.

“Perhaps, Clarke,” Lexa suggested, “you would like to try your skill in another arena of combat. Perhaps swordsmanship?”

“No way,” Clarke held up her hands in surrender, “I’ve barely touched a sword in my life. I’ve seen you practice with Anya there is no way I could keep up with you then, much less now.”

She looked at the open area where two warriors were in the midst of a duel. Their swords twirling as they clashed, but she saw no malice in their eyes. They were both smiling as they fought. They seemed to be equally matched, and Clarke couldn’t keep her eyes off of them as they fought.

“Lexa,” she said, nudging her, “After those two are finished, I would love to watch you fight. I mean, of course, if you want.”

“Of course Clarke, it would be an honor to show you a fight.” Clarke looked up at her, seeing the fire in Lexa’s eyes. Not for the first time, she noticed just how expressive the Commander’s eyes were. It seemed that the only holes in her emotionless mask were for her eyes. Clarke continued to watch Lexa watch the fight until it ended. Every few moments, Lexa would make a comment on the warrior’s form, mentioning a misstep that one of them made, or a way that the other could have ended the fight at that very moment. Just as Clarke had been in her elements on the archery range, Lexa was in control in this arena. When one of the warriors got a hit in on the other, Clarke noticed a slight turn in his wrist; he tilted the blade so that the sharp edge did not land on his opponent.

“Are the swords sharp?” she asked, worried at the possibility of injury. “I don’t particularly want to work tonight.”

“I imagine the swords are dulled. In training we use sharpened swords; however tonight is a night of celebration. These fights are for show, not for training, so the swords should not be sharpened.”

The fight concluded without any real struggle. It seemed to Clarke that the warrior who had previously been hit twirled her sword, and in a flurry of motion she disarmed her opponent, leaving him on the ground. She set her knee on his chest, and laid her sword across his neck. Then she grinned at him and stood, reaching out to him to help him up. They clasped arms before turning and each going their separate ways. Seeing that the duel was complete, Lexa stepped forward. The circle of people around the flattened dueling area parted as Lexa walked through. She stood at one end of the make-shift arena, hands clasped behind her back and spoke up.

“Would any of you challenge me?” she asked, calling out to the crowd, but they seemed hesitant. Clarke saw Lexa relax her stance and pick up one of the dueling swords. “Perhaps you need encouragement. I will fight with one hand placed behind my back.”

Clarke watched as Lexa stood, sword held in her right hand, her left arm pressed to the small of her back. The sword was angled slightly upwards, held lightly in Lexa’s hand.

“Alright, Heda.” A tall warrior stepped forward, “I’ll duel you.”

Clarke didn’t recognize the man, but it seemed that others in the crowd knew who he was. A spectator next to her was nodding his head in appreciation, so she figured maybe he would know who the warrior was.

“Who is he?” she asked, leaning towards the other spectator, “Does he have a chance?”

“That is Kor,” the man explained laughing, “He trains all of Heda’s guard. You don’t get out much, do you?”

“Arrived in Polis around two weeks ago.” She confirmed.

“Ah well, should be a good fight. But I have faith in our Heda.” He explained, “She wouldn’t be our leader if she couldn’t, even in a strange stance.”

Clarke nodded, but focused on the fight that was about to begin. She pushed her way to the front of the crowd to get closer to Lexa. She convinced herself she just wanted a better view of the full duel. It wasn’t because she wanted to get closer to Lexa; that was just a consequence. Lexa looked towards her smirking, and she might as well have been shouting to Clarke. _Now it’s my turn._ She didn’t need to say it aloud, her eyes said it all. Kor stepped towards Lexa while she was distracted, bringing his broader sword up as he moved towards her. When Lexa looked towards him, he swung his sword in an arc before charging. Just as Clarke thought his strike would connect, Lexa shifted. It was almost imperceptible, and Clarke didn’t quite catch what she did the first time. All she knew was that Kor was stumbling behind Lexa, who stood in much the same position that she had been holding. She turned towards him languidly, head cocked to the side. If Clarke didn’t know better, she would say that Lexa was confused as to why Kor hadn’t managed hit her.

He whipped his head up, and from where Clarke stood, she could hear a faint growl in the back of his throat. He charged towards her, this time with more aggression. He was fast, but it seemed that Lexa was faster. As his sword swept down towards her head, Lexa’s sword seemed to tap it easily on the side, knocking it out of the way. She swept her body to the side to avoid his now off balance form. Then Clarke understood her stance. It was not about striking, nor about force. Lexa was simply applying as much force as needed to put Kor off balance in his attacks. It was far different than any of the fighting she had seen in battles. Maybe it was reserved for more structured combat, and that was why few warriors used it. She was brought out of her thoughts by Lexa’s voice.

“Kor, come now,” she taunted, “If you teach my guards like this, then how am I to trust them.”

His only reply was to grunt. Clarke did, however, notice a change in his approach. He began to circle Lexa, moving in slowly. He teased along the edge of her space, searching for an opening. Lexa didn’t seem fazed by it, her face remained frozen in a cocky smirk as she followed him with her blade. Clarke almost missed the attack, and had she blinked she would have, except for hearing the clashing of the blades. As it was, she saw Kor swing his sword up and around, slashing towards Lexa’s neck. Clarke’s breath caught in her throat as Lexa flicked her own around her own blade to block his. The force of her block fully stopped his attack, unlike the previous few strikes. But then they disengaged, twirling apart. It seemed closer to a dance than a fight. As much as she knew that neither duelist would be harmed in the fight, Clarke couldn’t help her breath catching in her throat each time Kor’s sword brushed the air where Lexa had been less than a second previously. Still, Lexa never seemed to go on the offensive. Clarke occasionally saw her lightly touch him when he made himself vulnerable after an attack, but she only avoided his attacks.

“Come now, Heda,” Kor seemed to have noticed that Lexa was only dodging him, “I thought you were here to fight, not to run away. If you aren’t confident in your abilities, then you may use two hands.”

Lexa remained unfazed, but she shifted her feet. In fact, she shifted her entire body. While her stance before had seemed very passive, this one was far more aggressive. She had moved her hand from behind her back and squared her shoulders. However, she lowered her sword, the point not quite reaching the dirt, but it came close. The next time that Kor moved in for an attack she was ready. Instead of dodging out of the way as she had previously, Lexa stood her ground. Her sword flashed upwards, clashing with Kor’s. Then Clarke saw Lexa tuck downwards, pushing her shoulder into Kor’s solar plexus. As his momentum carried him forwards, Lexa sprung back up, with seemingly little difficulty, to throw him over her shoulder. He landed on his back, and Clarke was close enough to hear the breath leave his lungs. Lexa strolled towards him leisurely as he struggled to his feet. She kept her distance, letting him rise before going on the attack.

Lexa’s attack came suddenly. She surged forwards, blade swinging in a flurry of steel as she clashed again and again with Kor. She didn’t land any hits, but he was backpedaling, and even to Clarke, she knew that Lexa had him on the ropes. Then, just as swiftly as any of her other strikes, Lexa changed mid-swing. Her sword seemed to curve around Kor’s and with a flick of her wrist, his sword went flying through the air to land with a clatter on the other side of the dueling ring. He moved towards it, but Lexa’s blade was at his throat in an instant.

“Dead.” She said simply, as he fell to his knees before her, exhausted. Then she nodded down at him, dropping her own sword to reach down and help him up. “You fought well, Kor. It is clear why you train my guards.”

Then the crowd was cheering. The people loved their commander, and Clarke’s voice was among theirs. Clarke watched Lexa and Kor exchange a few quiet words, and when Lexa looked up, Clarke couldn’t help but smiling at her. As Lexa stepped out of the ring, two more warriors stepped in preparing to fight. Instead of watching them, Clarke turned to Lexa, still beaming.

“Impressive, Heda,” she said, “I would say that you have redeemed yourself after your embarrassing loss with a bow.”

Lexa only shrugged.

“If I am unable to defend myself, then I have no right to be Heda.” She explained, “Besides, I have not had the freedom to practice with a bow every day since I was 8.”

“Nor the endurance,” Clarke smirked.

“Perhaps.”

By then, the sun had already begun its final descent towards the skyline, and both Clarke and Lexa had worked up more of an appetite. However, Lexa warned against eating too much as a feast would begin at sundown. Instead, they spent their time walking the streets of the city and sharing conversation while keeping an eye on the various attractions around them. Clarke tried her hand at a game where the game-master would place a pebble below a bowl, moving them around nearly too quickly to track. She was almost certain that the first time she tried it, the man cheated her by moving the pebble somehow, but on her second attempt she guessed correctly. The man had a variety of his own crafts as prizes, and she picked a leather band to wrap around her wrist. It was brown with the symbol of the trikru burned into one side and the sides of the band were braided leather. He had made similar bands for each of the clans, each with their own touch. Lexa seemed content to simply watch as Clarke spoke to the man about both the game he ran, and his crafts. Clarke fastened the strap onto her wrist and smiled at the man one more time before turning away.

By then, they could smell the preparations for the feast, and Lexa suggested that they head back towards the tower. She would not necessarily be needed to begin the feast, but Lexa wanted to be there for the people of Polis. She wanted to show the people that it was truly a time of peace and prosperity, as much as that peace was tenuous. They meandered through the streets, walking in the general direction of the tower. By the time they arrived there were tables filling the courtyard. Lexa explained that while the feast was large, they could only feed so many people, and so it was often the ambassadors and occasionally the leaders of the clans as well as their guard who were at the feast. The rest of the city held smaller feasts, and there was still food being offered all around the city.

Lexa offered to try and seat Clarke next to her, but Clarke refused. She couldn’t expect to sit next to the Commander, even if they had been becoming friends. At least she hoped they were. Instead, she sat with other healers, on the far left side of the high table. Lexa was seated in the center, naturally, and the high table was perpendicular to the rest of the tables so that she would be able to address all of those gathered. Lexa only said a few words, having already announced enough earlier in the day. Everyone gathered were focused more on the food than what she had to say anyway. As much as she enjoyed the food, throughout the meal Clarke found her eyes drawn down the table to watch Lexa. She sat tall in her chair, eating slowly and dignified. Those around her were speaking to her, and she only responded in short sentences or by nodding. Clarke noticed Lexa reaching more and more for the wine as more people began coming forwards to ask questions. Clarke too, found herself reaching for the wine in front of her, draining the goblet again and again, but whenever she looked back it had been refilled.

Somehow it only got worse once Lexa started laughing. The people who Clarke assumed had been asking about war gave way and left the table, and young women began to take their place. Soon enough, Lexa was surrounded by handmaidens and young warriors, each seeking attention from their Commander. Clarke noticed a smile on Lexa’s lips, and she turned away, not catching the glance in her direction as she tipped her goblet up again. Draining it for what must have been the fifth time that night. The world had begun to swim, and when a servant came forward to refill her wine, she grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t you have something stronger?” she asked, staring the young man in the face.

He nodded quietly and turned away, scurrying off. When he came back, she had started to worry that he had ignored her. Instead, he had a flagon filled with a thick liquid. Clarke ignored the smell as she tipped it up and allowed the slurry into her mouth. It tasted awful, and she swore that she would have been able to chew it had she tried, but she simply swallowed it. The servant who had brought it lightly touched her arm.

“Do not drink too quickly,” he advised quietly, “It is dangerous to drink to forget. Tonight is a night of celebration.”

“Save it for someone who cares,” she slurred, frowning. And she was celebrating, wasn’t she? “This is how I celebrate, can’t you tell?”

She swung the flagon around, smiling at him. But her smile was empty, and her words sounded hollow, even in her own ears. Instead of thinking about it, she just tipped the drink back again. The foul concoction grew better the more she drank, so she focused on consuming more, until slender fingers wrapped around her own. They worked her hands away from the drink, and Clarke whined, only silenced when she looked at who they belonged to.

“Clarke, come with me,” Lexa said quietly. Her eyes shone with worry.

Lexa brought the flagon to her nose, sniffing experimentally. Her nose crinkled in disgust, but she took a sip anyway. She recoiled immediately, placing the drink back on the table. Then she quietly led Clarke away. Clarke tried to reach for the drink as she stumbled by, but her arms didn’t seem to want to follow her orders. She stumbled as she was dragged along by Lexa, who guided her with strong arms, even though Clarke noticed that Lexa too seemed to be having trouble with her balance. She clung to Lexa so that they wouldn’t be separated by the people still out for the evening; many of them were just as impaired as Clarke from their own celebrations. It seemed to Clarke that they took hours to arrive at their destination, though it likely only took a few minutes. When Lexa finally stopped, Clarke looked around, noticing that they had arrived in what she had come to think of as their clearing. It was a beautiful night, and the cool air swept around them as they sat down in the grass. The slight dew that had gathered began to soak into their clothes, but Clarke didn’t care.

They sat for some time before Lexa broke the silence.

“I needed to get away from all of those people,” she said quietly. “Even on a night of celebration, those on the war council seek my opinion. And when they finally left, I was swept into a crowd.”

Her voice was tired, and Clarke realized, even in her addled state, that Lexa was constantly working. Even when she took the time to relax among her people, she was still the Commander. She had an obligation to listen to what her people wanted to say to her, even if it was mean to be her day off. Lexa pulled a bottle from her clothing, setting it on her lap.

“I’m beginning to think you may have had the right idea earlier,” she said, uncorking it. Clarke smelled the distinct odor of the wine from earlier that night. Lexa sighed as she took a deep sip. “This wine is made for enjoyment and celebration, but all too often, I find myself indulging when I am most tired.”

Clarke reached over, pulling the bottle from Lexa to take a drink of her own. It was already half empty, so she imagined that Lexa had taken it from a table or a servant before leaving.

“Wine is good that way,” Clarke said, “I asked for something stronger, but it was awful.”

“I know, I tasted it.”

Clarke laughed and passed the wine back.

“I suppose you did.”

“I’ve tasted worse.” Lexa said, “Do you remember when Costia made moonshine?” Lexa took a drink from the wine, as if remembering the taste.

“Do you mean the stuff I used for a year to sterilize wounds?”

Lexa laughed at that. Clarke hadn’t heard her laugh in so long, since well before she was called to lead. It was refreshing, and she found herself smiling as it rang in her ears. She took the wine back.

“Yeah, I swear it nearly burned a hole in my stomach.”

“I mean, I guess Costia did succeed.” Clarke said, “She got us all drunk.”

“And you made Lincoln break his arm,”

“Hey, I dared him to climb a tree, he’s the one who decided to jump.”

They laid down, slight smiles gracing their lips. Clarke felt the cool blades of grass tickling her neck. She pulled herself close to Lexa, wrapping her arms around the other girl, trying to stave off the cool air. Lexa tensed, but soon relaxed into the hold, and reached around Clarke to hold her with one arm. They stayed like that in silence for some time, Lexa looking up at the sky, but Clarke only looked at Lexa.

“What’s wrong, Clarke.” Lexa broke the silence first, reminding Clarke of her actions from earlier.

“Nothing.” She said, gut twisting as she remembered the way girls from Polis had crowded around Lexa. It was none of her business what Lexa did in her spare time, what little she had. She shook her head, ignoring the slight pricks at the edges of her eyes.

“I don’t believe you, Clarke.” Clarke wrapped her arms closer around Lexa, but didn’t say anything. Had she been sober, she would have immediately jumped back at realizing how tightly she was holding onto the Commander, but she wasn’t, and she didn’t. Lexa turned in her arms, looking her in the eyes. “If you need to talk about it, I am here.”

_I am here_.

The words ran through Clarke’s head again and again. She stared back at Lexa’s eyes, her gaze sweeping over her features, but always returning to those eyes. She could look into them forever, and she was too drunk to think of a less cliché way of saying so. She was struck, not for the first time, by how very green they were. But they were not only green, she began to notice. They held other colors as well. They were rimmed with a blue that had she known what the ocean looked like, she would have compared the two. They were flecked with the brown of the earth beneath them. Her eyes were very earth, and held all on its surface. Clarke once again felt her tears well up in the corners of her eyes, and was helpless when they began to fall. Lexa’s eyes immediately clouded with worry, but Clarke just shook her head.

“Hey.” Lexa softly brushed the tears from her cheeks, “Tonight is a night for celebration, not for sadness.”

But Clarke was already smiling. Even if she trusted herself to open her mouth, she wasn’t sure if she could explain the tears. They fell asleep that way, simply holding each other, silent tears running down Clarke’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this has been so delayed and so short. I don't know exactly what but I wanted to make this longer and I just couldn't find the words. The past little while has been rough on me. Being an exhausted, starving, college student who is disenfranchised with her major doesn't really make for the best environment for writing.
> 
> I've also been getting a whole bunch of other ideas for fics but this is the one I'm trying to work on.
> 
> I might start aiming for chapters closer to 5000 words or so, that might help me get them out on time and such. Hopefully I'll have something for you next week, in the mean time thank you for your patience.
> 
> Ste yuj.


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